Man (of Science)
by melodyfair05
Summary: Amy asks Sheldon to simplify. Shamy pairing.


**A/N:** The central idea of this fic has been rolling around in my head for awhile. First time posting - hope you enjoy. I own nothing related to TBBT besides enduring allegiance to The Shamy.

* * *

"It was a fun party, wasn't it?" Amy asked, kicking off her shoes and sinking into the spot next to Sheldon's on the couch.

"That would not be the first word I'd use in an accurate description," Sheldon said dryly, dropping his keys into the bowl near the door and picking up the mail Leonard had apparently left there. "Unbelievable," he muttered, shuffling through the enveloped irritatedly. "He cannot even manage the simple task of sorting mail. The indignities that man puts me through cannot be born."

"Well, _I_ had a very nice time," Amy said placidly. She looked critically at her toes and wiggled them, grateful to be able to move them again after hours in nicer shoes than she usually wore. Regretfully, she had agreed to let Penny paint her toenails. The color brought too much attention to her feet, but Penny would not hear of her leaving the apartment in open-toed shoes without painted toenails. Having a fashion maven as a bestie was intoxicating at times, trying at others.

When Amy looked up, Sheldon was eying her feet as well. He noticed her glance and looked swiftly back down at the mail. "I assume that's Penny's doing," he said, quickly extracting the important envelopes and moving to discard the rest.

"Yes," said Amy evenly, "she wanted me to look pretty for the party."

"I hardly think your physical appearance important for a social event hosted by Stuart at his comic book store," Sheldon said dismissively, opening a cabinet and pulling down a mug. "Tea?"

"I'd rather have a glass of wine if you have any," Amy answered hopefully. Unwinding after Stuart's party with a glass of white wine, wiggling her toes periodically to return feeling to them, sounded like heaven.

"You know I don't," Sheldon said. "It'll be tea, Yoo Hoo, warm milk or water for you, missy." His hand rested on the second mug in the cabinet, waiting for her to make the decision he knew was best.

"I suppose water, then," Amy said, watching Sheldon shrug and move to get her a tumbler. The shrug irritated her, as so many small things when it came to Sheldon had come to these past few months. It seemed to say 'I can't stop you from making the wrong choice.' More and more frequently, the question of whether she was making the wrong choice with Sheldon was slithering across Amy's mind. There were so many normal, mundane things she wanted and knew she would never have in choosing him. And 95 percent of the time, she did not want Sheldon to be normal or mundane. She wanted to be with him because of how extraordinary his mind was, and how evenly matched their intellects were.

But some nights, it would be nice to have a boyfriend who would keep a bottle of wine in his apartment because he knew she liked it, and who would bring a glass of said wine to the couch for her after a night out. And then he'd pull her feet into his lap and rub them. Without being afraid.

Lost in her thoughts, Amy watched as Sheldon brought her a glass of water and set it in front of her. Instead of returning to the kitchen, he detoured to his bedroom; when he reappeared he was tieless, and had undone the top button on his dress shirt. As he walked to the kitchen he unbuttoned his cuffs and meticulously rolled the sleeves back on his dress shirt, careful to keep the folds of fabric identical in size. Amy looked curiously at the dusting of hair across his forearms. She rarely saw Sheldon in dress clothes. There was something unquestionably masculine about the picture he presented with his sleeves rolled up, tie off. Even if he _was_ making tea.

Sheldon felt her gaze. "Amy?" he asked. "Have you changed your mind and decided you want tea? I only put in enough water for one mug."

"No, Sheldon," Amy sighed. "It was just – you look handsome, like that. Making tea," she finished lamely. Giving compliments was not her strong suit. But she felt it was important that Sheldon know she found him attractive in the moment. They would never move forward if she didn't continue to affirm her attraction to him. They would _also_ never move forward if he never acknowledged she was of the female gender besides using feminine pronouns when speaking of her in conversation, she thought wryly.

Sheldon was squirming. "Amy. Please. Though this party fell on our pre-scheduled Date Night, there is no need for us to dip the night into a vat of romance."

Irritation pricked at Amy. The comment rated sub-zero on the innocence scale and he still couldn't handle it. "Calling you handsome is hardly dropping you, or this evening, into a vat of romance," she returned, trying to maintain her composure but feeling the anger that had been building at their lack of progress brimming to the surface. "Despite the fact that I am your girlfriend, and this party functioned as our date for the evening, you have done nothing to inject the night with an _ounce_ of romance. And I could stand a little romancing, Sheldon."

The tea forgotten, Sheldon had come out of the kitchen and taken a few steps toward Amy. At her final sentence he froze, arms folded, face inscrutable. Amy looked again at those damn hairs on his forearms. Sheldon was thin, but not skinny. He had nice arms. She could see just a hint of a shadow around his jaw, making her heart beat an extra time. Why must there be so many tiny reminders of the man he could be? All the physical pieces were there.

"I know…we have been moving toward…increasing the amount of 'romance,' as you insist on calling it, in our relationship," Sheldon said cautiously. "And while I can see that Penny's influence, as well as the influence of popular culture, have driven you to seek stereotypical proof of affection, as a man of science – "

"Oh, Sheldon!" Amy suddenly cried. Sheldon looked shocked by the small outburst. "What about as a man? Without the science?" Sheldon looked toward the window, lips pursed, eyes darting from pane to pane. Amy barreled on. "Do you ever think of me as a _woman_? For you, and no one else, sometimes I don't want to be Amy Farrah Fowler, neurobiologist; sometimes I just want to be Amy, a woman, and know that you appreciate that." She stood, slipping her feet back into her heels and grabbing her bag blindly, moving quickly toward the door. As she adjusted the strap on her purse and put her hand on the knob, she turned to look at him. He was still standing by the couch, but his arms were at his sides instead of crossed. And his eyes were huge.

He looked too helpless. Amy felt most of her anger seep out of her. Sighing, she walked to Sheldon and briefly put her hand to his cheek. A muscle in his jaw jumped.

"I would never ask something of you that is impossible," Amy said softly. "I believe you can do this. If I didn't, I wouldn't ask. But, Sheldon…by asking you to be more for me, I'm not asking you to be less than yourself. Do you understand?"

He wouldn't look at her. Amy sighed and let herself out. A full five minutes after she had gone, Sheldon walked swiftly to his spot, sat down, put his elbows on his knees, and lowered his head roughly into his hands.

* * *

Amy unlocked the door to her apartment a good two hours later. It was a little past one, and though she knew in the morning she'd regret the decision to go to Penny's instead of straight home, she'd been too keyed up to go home and sleep. She felt badly for pushing Sheldon as she had, despite an hour of Penny's comforting words and assurances that she'd been within her rights. She knew that she was without Penny's confirmation. What she didn't know was what return on investment she'd get.

Amy flipped the light switch in her room and walked to her desk, pushing the power button on her laptop. As she changed clothes and brushed her teeth, she mentally rehearsed how she might greet Sheldon the next time she saw him. 'Hi, Cuddles, have you figured out how to treat me like a lady?' was less than stellar.

Yawning, Amy walked back to her computer and unplugged it. Climbing into bed and snuggling deep into her comforter, she hauled the machine onto her legs. Opening a few windows in her browser –national news, a neurobiology site she enjoyed perusing, and her work and personal emails – she was slightly surprised to see one new email waiting in her personal inbox. She was extremely surprised to see it had been sent by Sheldon no less than 15 minutes before.

"What in the world?..." Amy murmured, opening the message. It boasted no subject line, and contained only one sentence.

_Amy – _

_I felt it was important you know that you are the only individual for whom I have wished to be not Homo Novus, or a Nobel prizewinning theoretical physicist, but instead, simply, a man._

– _Sheldon_

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Thanks for reading!


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